Bad Days - Tales of Multiplayer Madness!
by mcdorfman
Summary: Multiplayer fic. When fighting side by side with those who turn a simple mission into a living hell which could drive them to drink, you know they had a bad day. These are their stories. Series of one-shots, based on multiplayer matches. Rated M for language. Self Insert (technically).
1. Long Live Tech Armour!

_Author's Note: Hi there! Jonathan here with a little something for you. This is a series of one-shots based on some of my comings and goings during some multiplayer matches on Mass Effect 3, where I'm lumped with some of the biggest douches in existence. Now, every single one of us who has played ME3 multiplayer have had matches like these, without fail. Personally, I don't particularly mind playing with randoms – truth be told they make up for 99% of my multiplayer matches – but there are just some people who are…for a lack of a better term…complete and utter dicks. These are their stories…or rather my stories but featuring them…you know what I meant!_

_This is also inspired by those ambient dialogues in the Citadel DLC – you know the ones – those conversations between two asari, and the ones with the infiltrator and vorcha? Yeah, those kinda gave me the idea to do these stories. These **are** based on what really happened during the matches,__ more or less, given what I remember of the actual match when I write these stories, but I'm not going to reveal what the Gamertags of my fellow 'teammates' are, because – you know – privacy. I'm nice like that, but if they **are **reading these; they know who they are, and I say to them: 'fuck you'. _ಠಠ_ಠಠ

_This will be an ongoing series, updated depending on whether I can get a good story out of any of the more…trying…of my multiplayer matches. But if you have a story of your own, then please, feel free to share if you like! Share your pain! *evil laugh*_

_But enough about that! You're here to read, dammit! Oh, and everything that's Bioware's is…yeah you know the drill…_

_We'll bang, okay? ^_^_

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_**Bad Days – Tales of Multiplayer Madness!**_

_**A Mass Effect fanfiction by mcdorfman.**_

**Chapter One: Long Live Tech Armour!**

You know, back in the day people like me were very popular with the troops. You know…turian sentinels. We were the king badasses of all the other sentinels out there, not like the rest of those guys. We had biotic attacks, we could overload shields with ease, and let's not forget that which _any_ sentinel worth a damn should have: tech armour!

Back in the day, tech armour was like the Commander Shepard of powers and in my opinion it still is damn it! Tech armour was the right tool for any job. Surrounded by husks? Easy. Tech armour. Marauders closing in on you? Overload their shields, get in real close, then tech armour. Got a geth prime coming towards you with pulse cannon blazing? Well…with something like that, then you need to run away. But when you get the opportunity, you overloaded its shields, you weakened its armour with a warp field…or six…maybe set up a fire explosion or tech bursts every now and then if you could pull them off…and then – yep, you guessed it – tech armour!

I'm telling you, guys like me were all the rage back in the day. Nowadays, this war's being fought by humans with swords! I mean _really_! _Swords_?! Is it suddenly thousands of years ago now?! I was starting to feel old, like the rest of the old school guys out there. There was this one Alliance soldier I ran with, told me one time that before all the new guys showed up with their fancy gear, all you needed was a good Avenger at your side. Those were the days.

But I'm not here to tell you about the new guys or the old guys, or even tech armour. I'm here to tell you about an op I ran with some random guys back on Sanctum.

So here I was, sitting in the shuttle, minding my own business. Sat next to a vorcha who kept making these weird noises…like static. I don't know why…but I had to turn down the volume on my comm so I couldn't listen to it. It was either that or bust his teeth in, it was _that_ annoying. There was also some human N7 guy, a 'Destroyer' I think? You know, those guys with the cool armour – it's no _tech armour_, but still – and says "Devastator mode, engage!" a lot? Anyway, quiet guy. Didn't say much. I could tell that he was green, though. There was just something about the kid which gave away all the signs that said 'fresh meat!' above his head.

And there was also this guy. A krogan with this big hammer he carried around with him all the time. You know the guys? Covered head to toe in thick plates? He was like a tank with legs. Looking at his hammer, I'm suddenly remembering those humans with the swords and I felt old again. But man, this krogan did_ not _know when to shut up! He was just sitting there, bragging about how many kills he was going to get down there. As if these missions were a competition. Heh. We're fighting a _war_ here, against some pretty nasty enemies – you know, those Cerberus assholes, Reapers, Reaper-controlled geth, Reaper-controlled collectors, those kinds of enemies – you'd think these things would be a team effort.

Boy was _I_ wrong in this case. You would not believe how wrong I was.

We dropped down in this old Cerberus base – the Alliance codenamed it 'Firebase Glacier'. The place was crawling with geth. Heh. When this whole thing started, I thought to myself that this would be no problem for me. I was almost _made _to fight against these things! Say bye to that armour! Say bye to those shields! And say hello to my little friend, tech armour! And with the trusty N7 Hurricane at my side and readily equipped with disruptor ammo? No problem.

But none of that mattered, because the very second we dropped into the hot zone, things just went to hell.

First, the krogan warlord just ran out on his own, paying no mind to his teammates, and just started whacking away with his hammer. And the rest of them? Split up! Geth were crawling out of the walls and we split up?! Madness! I'm pretty sure the humans have some old vids where splitting up equalled death in several painful ways, I'll have to remind myself to look them up sometime. Anyway, our splitting up – predictably – came to bite us in the ass. That N7 guy I was telling you about? Had a _very_ nasty habit of getting knocked on his ass all the time. I remember this one point during the mission, where he just kept using up all of his medi-gel. I was literally a few steps from him, I could have shared mine! But noooo!

And the vorcha? He just ran around not really doing anything. Oh sure, he popped a few rounds into some Troopers and the odd Pyro, but that was all. That. Was. All. That lazy little bastard.

I guess everybody else just thought: 'to hell with teamwork!' and then just did their thing, regardless of what would happen. I mean, was I the only sane turian in that place? Oh, right. I was the only turian down there, forget I said that.

But true to his word, the krogan's kill count was the highest among us. He was just smashing everything in sight with that hammer of his. I was impressed with the way he just cleaned house. But there was the time when we had just finished uploading some data for the brass, and the krogan was alone with three Pyros and a couple of Bombers coming in close behind him. He was going to get pummelled if nobody helped him. So what do I do? I take out my missile launcher and saved his scaly ass. You know, it's times like that when your teammate would say: "Thanks buddy!" or "You really saved my bacon there! Those things would have killed me for sure!"

But this guy?

"What the fuck man!?" he growled at me. "They were mine!"

Huh. _That's_ gratitude for you. But then what would you expect from a krogan?

And that's not all. Later, the N7 guy got wounded – _again_ – and predictably he's out of medi-gel and loses consciousness before anyone could help the kid out. The vorcha winds up getting his face stomped on by a geth, so he's out of it for now. And me? I get my ass set on fire and that krogan was just there, not helping a turian out! Guy was not two feet away from me and not only does he just let me burn, but he runs for this Prime and leaves me there! That's just wrong. Was it because of that whole genophage thing, or does he just not like turians?

So anyway, his teammates are down – no thanks to him – and he thought going into a _fist fight_ with a Geth Prime was a good idea. Uhh…okay, fair enough, Primes can't impale you to death or anything – unlike those damn Banshees and Phantoms – but you'd think fist fighting a _Geth Prime_ would be unwise, at least without having tech armour like me. But to his credit, he won the fight, I would have been impressed with the krogan, but he had the bad taste to brag about it.

"Yeah!" he yelled. "One-versus-one against a Prime and I _raped _it!" First off, eww. Thanks for that unpleasant image. Second, going against Geth Primes alone ain't acts of godhood, try doing that against a Praetorian – a _Possessed Praetorian _even! – and _then_ you come talk to me. Third, _you let me burn you asshole_! Fourth, you need to get laid. You _really_ need to get laid. Commander Shepard cured the genophage, so yeah, no excuses pal.

Sigh. Good thing I still had some medi-gel, otherwise...

You know, this mission was bad to begin with. Each of us doing their own thing – yeah, _to hell with teamwork_, right? An N7 destroyer, greener than grass, that should know better than to, you know, try and get himself killed. A vorcha who did very little to help with the mission. And an ungrateful krogan who lets his teammates almost die. Yeah, this mission sucked hard.

But the mission was going to be over soon – thank the spirits – and we called for extraction. And _then_ the krogan eventually had the rotten luck to get wounded by some…Hunter? Pyro? I can't remember, it was a geth. Anyway, he's just lying there, screaming, "Somebody come revive me!" like a little krogan bitch.

Now, seeing as I was left to _burn_ by this guy, seeing as I was getting tired of his attitude and his lack of teamwork, and seeing as he's surrounded by Primes and Bombers, you'd think I would just leave him there to bleed out, right? Wrong. I'm waaay too nice a guy to do that. Yeah, it's a fault of mine which I'm working on.

So I take out my missile launcher and cleared the room, overloaded the shields of this one Bomber that survived, and detonated my tech armour to finish off the rest of the geth there. I revived the krogan, and he runs off. No words of gratitude, no nothing, he just runs off…and lets me get ambushed by a couple of Hunters.

"What the fuck, kid?!" he growled. "Don't you dare die! Don't you…!" Too late. Got double-tapped by one of the Hunters this guy left me to deal with on my own. Thanks for that, you dick! But you know, it was a miracle I'm even here talking to you. The N7 and the vorcha got out of there – _somehow_ – and I'm left here in this geth-infested hellhole. But luckily they swung back around to drag me onto the shuttle, and here I am, chugging some dextro liquor down my gullet and telling you this story about one of the biggest assholes this poor turian sentinel had the rotten luck to be teamed up with on what should have been a simple mission. Bad day, or what?

So now I come to the ending of this tale. You know that asshole krogan with the big hammer? You wanna know what happened to him? He's still down there! Ha!

But you know what? If by chance I ever meet that krogan again, you know what I'm gonna do to him? If you could tell by the evil turian grin on my face, then damn right you guessed it! Tech armour!


	2. Call Me Crazy!

_Author's Note: Hi! Here I am with another tale of multiplayer madness! I really hope that you enjoy reading, and get at least one chuckle out of it. You might consider this a spoiler or something but this is a tale based on a Gold match I had recently. It was a nightmare, I won't go into too much detail about it in this A/N but let's just say that I may as well have done it solo. You'll find out why when you read my latest offering._

_I would just like to thank N7warrior93, Tucker1901, Zant the Twili King and Mr. Crowbar for choosing to follow and/or favourite these stories. Thanks a lot, I really appreciate it!_

_Enjoy! ^_^_

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**Chapter Two: Call Me Crazy!**

They call me crazy sometimes. You wanna know why? "You're a damn Infiltrator, for God's sake!" they say. "You're a squishy little thing! Stay in the back with your sniper rifle! I don't want to come to the rescue when you catch a bullet in your ass." Okay, I get it! So I'm not the biggest guy out there, nor am I the fastest. I don't have those crazy biotics the Adepts and Vanguards have, or that Tech Armour those Sentinel assholes keep screaming about. You can even say I have one of the shittiest tech attacks ever - if not _the_ shittiest - and seeing I come equipped with a _Cryo Blast_ of all things, I'd agree with you – I don't even use it. I mean – call me crazy – but does _anyone_ use Cryo Blasts, even back in the day? No? Didn't think so. Those Alliance quartermasters screwed up big time when they equipped us with these. Why couldn't they have given us that groovy Energy Drain like those STG guys have?

But you see, I got news for you, folks. I know it might be a big shock to all of you but – get this – I can _cloak_!

Yeah. Stop the presses! The puny little human Infiltrator here can cloak! Can you? Didn't think so…okay I see one or two heads nodding, and there's that asari chick raising her hand, but…_shut up_!

Oh, and you know what else I have? I ask you, flashing an evil grin.

I have a shotgun. A very big shotgun.

All of you who know this will agree with me, but guys like me? We're fuckin' _awesome_ with shotguns. Call me crazy, but when I'm down in the dirt with the rest of you, you should all be grateful that I go do the good ol' stealth hi/bye and give that Marauder that's been giving you trouble a free facial courtesy of my big Claymore. Or maybe there's that Atlas Mech that keeping you pinned down? What can I do about it? Claymore to the engine, baby. Swarmed by those spider things? Boom! What spider things? You're welcome, by the way.

Anyway. To my story…after I do this shot. And this one. Hell, just give me the bottle! Hmm...Batarian shard wine, here we go.

Most days I love my job. Yeah, I know… 'Dropping into hot zones full of Reapers?' Not exactly a fun time for everyone, but me? I love it! With my trusty Claymore at my side and the ability to turn invisible and give unsuspecting enemies Claymore facials, how can I ever fail?

In truth, I almost did once.

We were dropping onto an anti-ship battery on Tuchanka. 'Firebase Giant' the brass call it, as if any of us cared, but I guess they wanna make it look like they're doing something. Anyway, there's me, these two quarians – a guy and a girl, both Engineers – and this really hot asari Vanguard…wouldn't mind getting' with her after that mission. Not to be, though…le sigh.

Brass needed us to secure this location after Cerberus was forced to evacuate when Shepard kicked their asses from this side of the planet to the other. You'd think with all that shit jammed into their bodies – all that Reaper tech – they'd prove to be a tougher fight for us little people than they did a badass like Shepard. Nope! Easiest fights ever. You wouldn't believe! Okay, maybe you would…shut up!

So we're securing this base, when suddenly we see little balls of flame drop from the sky, and you know what? The goddamn Reapers decide to party. And what a party it was because you know why? I was the only one partying! Yeah!

Those quarians and the asari decide to call for early extraction before the Reapers can get even a hundred feet of them! They each hopped onto that shuttle without so much as a backwards glance at me. No "bye-bye!" No "good luck!" It was just them and their shuttle. Yeah, nice going assholes! Leave me here in sunny Tuchanka against an army of cyborg zombies come to drink my blood and eat my spleen! Meh. Whatever. Call me crazy, but I decided to go with it. Nah, screw it! I was down there to do a job and God damn it I was going to do that job.

So I'm running around the goddamn place, using my cloak and my Claymore more times than should be legal. Husks and Cannibals exploding before me every time I pull the trigger. There was a Brute that almost got me, but it was either blind luck or me being awesome that I landed a Sticky Grenade right between its eyes. Blew its damn head off! That was a sight, and it bought me the time to escape and finish off the Marauders taking cover close to me. Must have been hours – or it might have been twenty minutes, I don't know – that I finally get reinforcements…

Who then take off at the sight of the Reapers!

So long, random salarian! Nice knowing you for those few brief seconds! Dick...

You know, I had a_ lot_ of guys like that on this mission. Vorcha. Humans. Turians. Even had a couple of _krogan_ down here, for God's sake! You'd think the damn krogan would at least stick around – they love fighting and this was their homeworld we're fighting on. But _noooooo_! All of them each step off the shuttle, take a deep breath, and then just hop right back on there and fly away! Why?! Do you not see the puny little human Infiltrator needing your help?!

Eventually, I was given the task of deactivating these indoctrination devices by the brass. This was the tricky part, because I was all on my lonesome. Even with my cloak and my shotgun, I knew I wasn't going to make it out of that unscathed. I had just finished deactivating my second device when I finally get taken down by a Ravager who managed to sneak up behind me. I thought I would be a goner, at least if I didn't use up my medi-gel and haul ass out of there.

But lo and behold! In my pain-filled vision, I caught sight of yet another shuttle on its way down to this hellhole. Only guy to step out was this really obnoxious drell who just stood in the corner, just…kicking the air.

Come on, you asshole! I thought. Quit your damn dancin' and prancin' and come help a guy out here! At this point I'm forced to use the medi-gel I had. I thought if I could cloak and use my last remaining missile that could give me the breather I needed to deactivate the rest of the indoctrination devices if this guy could be bothered. But you know what? I do down again! And a third time! And by this time I was pinned down by these three Ravagers and a Banshee, and I finally hear the drell speak to me through my comm.

"I _really_ would like to get some credits, please. If you wouldn't mind," he tells me, politely, clear as day even through the sounds of heavy cannon fire and that damn shrieking coming from the ugliest reaperised asari I'd ever seen. 'I really would like to get some credits, please?' This coming from the guy who drops in too late and does precisely nothing but kick the air? The _balls _on this guy! Oh, wow. Call me crazy, but we're supposed to be fighting for the fate of the galaxy here, and this air-kicking lizard just want's free cash? The balls, man…the _balls_!

Man, if I could have done, I would have told him, "How about I give you a free facial with my shotgun instead, you fucking idiot!? Get over here and _help me_!" But alas, my comm was broken, so I could only receive and not transmit. Such a damn shame…

But anyway, does he get off his scaly ass and help his supposed teammate? What do you think?

Eventually, I finally deactivate the devices – no thanks to the drell – and I was just about ready to get off this rock. The shuttle was due in a couple of minutes, but it was a couple of minutes I didn't have. Banshees and Brutes were crawling out of the woodworks. Cannibals and Marauders were unleashing a fuckton of firepower on my position, and the Drell? Still screwing around… Really starting to hate that guy…

"Help me," he commands, as if I were his servant or something. I had taken position atop this ramp and I could see the drell get swarmed by Banshees. And you know what? He still didn't do anything. "Help me, for fucks sake!" he tells me again, and I'm thinking to myself, 'the mouth on this guy!' Hey, I swear all the time, but aren't drell supposed to be really spiritual, or something? You'd think that would be some kind of taboo, I don't know... Ah well. "I want to get the credits!" he also tells me, while he's lying there.

Yeah, and I wanted a puppy what I was a kid, but we don't all get what we want now, do we? There were Banshees grouped together and here's me, with no missiles left. To do so would be suicide, and even if I did feel suicidal, why would I help a guy who wouldn't help me? Would you?

So while this guy's bleeding out, I'm just waiting out the time it would take for the shuttle to arrive and I'm thinking: 'You have medi-gel, right?' And what do you know? He does! Aaaannnd he uses it in front of the fucking Banshees… Idiot.

I saw him get taken down again, and it was a miracle that those Banshees didn't just end him right there, instead they just take him down wait for him to get back up, then take him down again. If Reapers had a sense of humour, I'd think that was it. Call me crazy – I say that a lot, don't I? – but reviving yourself in front of something that could fuck your shit up for good? Not the smartest of ideas. Where did they recruit this guy?

But anyway, I come down from my little nest and cloak when I see that we had just a couple of seconds to extract. Meanwhile, this drell guy is hurling insults which would make me blush! Saying things about my mother – or was it_ his_ mother, I can't remember – and that I should eat his…okay I'll stop there, I think the younger members of our gathering would thank me. And this was no kid fresh out of basic, neither. This guy must have been…I don't know…thirty? Thirty-five? That's middle aged for drell, right? Guy's older than me, that's for sure. Anyway, here I am, hoofing it while cloaked when finally the drell takes out his missile launcher! I'm thinking to myself, 'Why the hell did he not use that thing in the _first place_!' Grrr…

So to cut this story short, we both got out of there. On the shuttle ride back, I hear the drell keep on insulting me and telling me to…_ahem_. Anyway, I just sat there and listened, telling myself not to just go over there. Drell have perfect memory, remember? They can remember pretty much everything that ever happened to them. Every experience, every heartbreak, every joy, _everything_. So folks, could you imagine the smile on my face when I pictured in my head just how this shit-for-brains would remember my sticking my Claymore so far up his ass he'd remember it even without his perfect memory.

I even thought about what he'd say when he'd go into that weird trance thing drell do.

"_Stayed in the corner. Kicking the air wildly while insulting the only one doing anything productive. Back on the shuttle. Still insulting him, inviting him to do unspeakable things. Suddenly, I feel great discomfort – I look down – a very large shotgun inserted in my rectum. I remember. Ouch_."

Call me crazy, but that image in my head? That was some funny shit.

Now, I'm done telling this story. Leave me to this shot. And this shot. And this-oh hell, gimme another damn bottle! What is that, Ryncol? Extra strength? Gimme!


End file.
